Page 42 of Dying Breath
‘He has, but I can’t complain. He worked really hard last night booking in all the evidence. God knows what time he left. But I’m not going to be as mean to him from now on because I thought he’d have left it all for me and he didn’t.’
‘He’s a bit odd, though, isn’t he? He doesn’t talk much.’
Amanda laughed. ‘I know why he doesn’t talk to you much – that’s because you scare him. Although he was asking lots of questions about you, so you might have yourself a new admirer.’
Lucy’s eyes widened in horror.
‘Christ, I hope not. He’s only a kid; the last thing I want is to get into a relationship with someone young enough to date my daughter.’
‘Toy boy – why not? It could be fun.’
‘Or it could be a flipping disaster, more like.’
‘Anyway, enough about Toby: have you seen the new DCI? Of course you have, but you know what I mean. I’ve been smitten ever since I set eyes on him. It’s like my ultimate fantasy has been brought to life and walked into the station.’
Shocked, Lucy glanced at Amanda’s husband Jack to see if he could hear what she was saying. He couldn’t because he was still growling down the phone at whoever it was that was unlucky enough to have answered his call.
‘What did you want Toby for?’
‘I was just going to see if he was okay. I felt a bit sorry for him, to be honest. He’s only been here a couple of days and he’s had four murders to cope with. It’s hard enough for us and we’ve been doing this a long time. I just wanted to let him know about the counselling sessions he’s entitled to.’
‘Lucy, what’s happening to you? That’s really sweet.’
‘I’m going before Jack bites my head off. You’d better be nice to him because he looks stressed.’
‘Nah, he’s always like this.’
Lucy turned and walked out, back to the incident room. She perched on the edge of a desk and stared at the pictures. Melanie and Stacey were both lone women out having a good time. She turned her gaze to the Martins. A family at home in bed, except for Craig, who had been working late. She squeezed her eyes shut; her fingers began to rub the sides of her head. Massaging her temples, she tried to release some of the pressure. On paper all of them were different, but her gut was telling her that the two women were connected. So where did the Martins fit in? Why them? What purpose did it serve to take out an entire family? How likely was it that they had two different killers in Brooklyn Bay? She wasn’t convinced that they did, but unless they had some forensic evidence to link all three cases no one would believe her because of the differences between them.
She realised that there was no whiteboard for the body that had been found in the woods. Why? That victim deserved the same as everyone else; she’d been there for a long time, but she still needed justice. She turned to go and ask Patrick where he was with his enquiries. Anger bubbled inside her chest at the thought that he wasn’t taking the case seriously.
Mattie came out of the gents and, sensing that something was about to go down, he strode towards Lucy. He grabbed her arm and led her away from the corridor where Patrick was watching them both through the glass windows of Tom’s office.
‘What’s up, Lucy? You keep acting weird, and why’s the new boy always eyeballing you? Don’t turn around; he’ll know we’re talking about him. I don’t like him.’
‘Am I acting weird?’
‘A bit. Have you and him had a spat already?’
She shook her head. ‘Not yet, although I was just on my way to give him a piece of my mind. He’s useless.’
‘Come on, let’s get out of here – you can buy me a coffee before we go to the hospital and tell me what’s going on.’
She didn’t know if there was anything she could tell him; she didn’t have anything yet to tie all the cases together. However, coffee sounded like a good idea and it would be nice to get out of the station and give her brain some breathing space, a chance to get back to normal.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
He pinned the photographs onto his board and stepped back. He’d done it and it had gone without a hitch. It had been lucky the man hadn’t gone into his son’s bedroom first because he didn’t know if it would have worked out as well. As it was, he’d gone in to see his wife and once he’d turned on the light and seen her lying there he’d barely had a split second to react before he’d crept up behind and shot him in the back of the head. It had been a couple of hours after he’d killed the woman and child when the man had come home. He’d had to occupy himself, but he’d done it and hopefully without leaving behind any evidence.
Tomorrow, the last of the acid he’d ordered should be arriving. What a job it had been getting hold of that. He’d had to set up a company online as a drain cleaner, months ago. When it was delivered he should have enough to fill the forty-five gallon drum. It would have been a lot easier for John George Haigh to get hold of large amounts of sulphuric acid back in the forties than it was now. It was a popular choice for terrorists making bombs, so to ensure he didn’t arouse the suspicion of Special Branch he’d had to create the fake business: registering a domain, setting up a website and a business account, and ordering a whole load of other stuff he would never use along with the acid. Still, it was worth it – he didn’t know of anyone who would put in as much effort to recreate this next killing as he had.
The only problem he had would be getting the victim to his house; he didn’t want to take any risks. He’d given this some serious thought and concluded that it would be best if it were a slender woman, in order for the body to fit neatly into the drum – unless it was the homeless guy from the pier. He would fit, at a push. He just needed to find a way to lure him here. He still wasn’t sure whether it would be best to start by filling the drum with the acid, or to put the body in first and then pour the acid over it. It was probably safer for him if he didn’t put the acid in before the body. He didn’t think it would make any difference to the finished result. As long as the body was left in the acid long enough before the police found it, the plan would still work.
He realised that for the coppers to discover this next body, he might have to give them a hint – or maybe he should leave it somewhere blatantly obvious such as outside the police station. Surely, if he did that, they couldn’t miss it. Would this be the one that made them connect the murders? It was a possibility, but really he wanted them to figure it all out on their own without a helping hand from him. It was much more fun this way; watching and listening out to see if they had found anything. Of course, it helped that he had inside information.
Detective Inspector Harwin had no idea who he was – for now. That could all change if he made a mistake, which he wouldn’t. Up to now he hadn’t, so why should he worry that they were going to catch him any time soon? No, he just needed to focus on figuring out exactly where to place his next body and how he was going to get the victim to come to his house without arousing their suspicions.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
